Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls

  I laughed. “Spooks putting on a good show?”

  Heath chuckled. “Yeah, it’s ghouls, ghouls, ghouls in there! Your friendship with Lord Dunnyvale has really come in handy. Carrack and Keevan are even putting on a joust for us! Gopher says we definitely have enough terrific footage to take our show to A&E or the Travel Channel.”

  After the crap that our old network bosses had pulled, Gopher wanted nothing to do with them ever again, and he was currently in strong negotiations with two competing networks.

  “Awesome,” I said. “At least I think that’s awesome.”

  “And as soon as Gopher finishes giving his deposition to the court in the kidnapping case against Mulholland, we can move on to the next shoot.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe they’re still going to prosecute him,” I said. “I mean, it’s almost sad.”

  But Heath shrugged. He had little sympathy for Bertie Mulholland, even after the stroke he’d suffered during the phantom’s attack that had left him unable to speak and barely able to move. “I guess people are pretty mad about what Bertie did.”

  “At least O’Grady’s kept his part of the bargain,” I said. The former constable had made sure to provide as much evidence as was needed to bring Mulholland to justice. He’d also resigned his post as town constable.

  The wind began to pick up and I shivered. “We should go,” I said.

  Heath smiled at me oddly just then and said, “Hold on. You’ve got something in your hair again.”

  Reaching up, his fingers brushed the side of my face and I felt a tingle of electricity shoot through me. We hadn’t been able to get physical with each other since his back injury, which was driving both of us a bit crazy, as we had definitely decided to take Alex’s advice and dive in already.

  Heath pulled his hand away and held a small white feather, which made me smile, and I was flooded with warmth. “Your grandfather,” I said with a laugh, taking the feather and tucking it into my coat pocket for safe-keeping. “At this rate I’ll have a enough for a full head-dress in no time.”

  As the three of us walked back to the castle, Gilley came out and hurried up to me. “You got anything to eat?” he asked, his eyebrows bouncing.

  “I thought you weren’t eating,” I told him with a smile.

  “I’m eating,” he said. “I’m just eating less.”

  I laughed again. “Yeah,” I told him, digging around in my messenger bag. “I’ve got a granola bar in here somewhere.”

  Something clinked against my fingers and I paused at the unfamiliar object, wondering what I’d put in there that could make that kind of noise. Handing Gilley the granola bar, I reached back in and pulled out a long gold chain with one beautiful Spanish gold coin attached.

  “Whoa!” Gilley gasped.

  “Where’d that come from?” Heath asked.

  “M.J.!” Alex exclaimed. “You took that from Ranald’s tomb?”

  I shook my head vehemently. I’d no idea how it’d ended up in the bottom of my bag. “I didn’t!”

  “It’s a present,” said a very distinct disembodied voice, and we all stopped to look around in shock. “A gift for setting my castle to rights and something to remember me by, my lovely Miss Holliday.”

  And as we all gazed at one another in stunned silence, strong, confident footfalls could be heard walking away toward the keep.

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  Victoria Laurie’s next Ghost Hunter Mystery,

  GHOUL INTERRUPTED

  Coming soon from Obsidian.

  I’ve always believed in ghosts. Actually, I had no choice in the matter. My childhood had been full of encounters with disembodied voices, strange blue flashes, flickering shadows at the edge of my peripheral vision, and odd-looking orbs appearing right over my head.

  And then, of course, my mother died and her ghost came to see me.

  I was eleven going on twelve when her cancer finally won the war it’d raged so savagely against her. I knew the instant that she had passed, even though every adult in my world had tried to shield me from the knowledge that it was coming. I remember playing with my new best friend, Gilley Gillespie, on the back porch of his house in beautiful Valdosta, Georgia, like it was yesterday.

  Even back then his mother had indulged his rather effeminate tastes. Gil had one of the best collections of Barbie and Ken dolls you’ve ever seen, and we played with those dolls almost constantly.

  In fact, on that bright and sunny early-fall morning, that was exactly what we’d been doing. While Gilley was setting up Ken on a blind date with G.I. Joe, I’d been happily working Barbie into a new pair of gold disco pants and just like that, I knew my mother was gone.

  I remember dropping the Barbie and getting to my feet, the shock from the certainty of Mamma’s passing crushing something fragile inside of me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, and couldn’t really even think.

  My vision had clouded, and stars had begun to dance in front of my eyes, and I felt myself sway on wobbly knees. I could sense that, somewhere nearby, Gilley had noticed my strange posture and he was calling my name, but I was unable to reply or even acknowledge him. I felt like I was dying, and I didn’t know how I would ever be able to live in a world without my mother. My only thought was to pray that she’d somehow find a way to stay with me.

  And then, as if by some miracle, my silent prayer had been answered and my mother appeared, standing in the doorway right in front of me.

  “Breathe, Mary Jane,” she said softly, coming quickly to my side. “It’s okay, dumplin’. Just breathe.”

  I’d managed to take a very ragged breath then, and with it, my vision had cleared. I’d blinked and she hadn’t vanished, and that crushing feeling inside me had lessened a bit. Maybe I’d gotten it wrong. Maybe she hadn’t died after all.

  “I have to go away for a spell, puddin’,” she said, that Southern lilt in her voice so sweet and caring.

  “Mamma?” I said as she knelt down in front of me and placed her warm hands on the sides of my cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay with you, Mary Jane,” she whispered tenderly, bending in to kiss my forehead. And then she looked me right in the eyes and added, “I know what you can see, and I know what you can hear. I also know that your daddy and your nanny, Miss Tallulah, don’t want to believe that you’re special like that and not just imaginin’ things. But you are special, dumplin’. I’ve known it from the day you were born. And during this whole time I been fightin’ the cancer, I’ve known in my heart that if I lost my fight, that you’d still be able to hear me when I come round to visit with you. I’ll never really leave you, puddin’,” she assured me as I started to cry. “Anytime you need me, you just call out to your mamma and I’ll come, so don’t be scared and don’t be sad. You hear?”

  I nodded with a loud sniffle, trying hard to be brave for her, and she let go of me and stood up. I noticed then how beautiful she looked. How radiant and gloriously healthy she seemed. Such a far cry from the bone-thin, pale woman who’d occupied her bed for the last year.

  A little gasp from behind me told me that Gilley could see her too. She looked at him then, and she said, “Now, Gilley Gillespie, you don’t be afraid neither. I need you to stay close to my Mary Jane. You hear? You be a good friend to her, ’cause I believe she’ll be needin’ a real good friend for a spell.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gil squeaked obediently.

  And then my mother looked one last time at me with such tenderness and love that I nearly shattered inside. She blew me a kiss, mouthed, “I love you,” and then she vanished into thin air.

  Gilley and I had never once spoken about that morning, and I carried the memory of it like a safely guarded secret. It was such a bittersweet memory that to tell anyone about it might forever taint it in some way, which was why I told no one, and I pushed it to the back of my thoughts to keep it safe and pure.

  So, I couldn’t imagine why, after all these years, I’d be dreaming abo
ut it on the eve of leaving Ireland for Dunkirk to film the next segment of our reality TV show, Ghoul Getters, but here I was all grown-up now, having a dream about visiting that same porch back in Valdosta, which was once again scattered with Barbies, Ken dolls, and tiny clothes, and there was my mother, standing in the doorway, looking every bit as lovely as I had remembered.

  “Hello, Mary Jane,” she said softly, almost shyly.

  I blinked—just like when I was eleven. “Mamma?”

  My mother stepped forward, her smile filling up the room and my heart. “I been watchin’ you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “My, what a lovely lady you’ve turned into!”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but the emotion of seeing my mother was too much and the words just wouldn’t come.

  Mamma was kind enough to ignore that and simply stepped closer. Taking my hand she said, “I am so proud of you, Mary Jane. You just light me up with how smart you are and how courageous you’ve become. Why, I remember when you were afraid of your own shadow!”

  I swallowed hard and attempted a smile. In recent years I’d played on my natural psychic-medium talents and become a credible ghostbuster. While working on the Ghoul Getters show, I’d faced and fought back against some of the most fearsome poltergeists you could ever imagine.

  “Lord, Mary Jane!” my mother exclaimed knowingly. “I’ve watched you tackle murderous spirits, and vengeful witches, and now, even a phantom!”

  My chest filled with the pride and love from my mother. But just then my mother’s beaming face turned serious, and she seemed to hesitate—as if she were about to choose her next words carefully. “There is a mission about to be offered to you that I know you’ll accept, honey child. One that involves the most horrendous evil imaginable.”

  I blinked again. Was she talking about the ghosts in the haunted village in Dunkirk? The next place on the Ghoul Getters agenda? “I’ve already read the literature,” I tried to assure her. “This time I’m going in prepared, and honestly, Mamma, I don’t think it’s anything we can’t handle.”

  My mother squeezed my hand, however, and sighed heavily. “Nothing can prepare you for this, Mary Jane. But I know better than to try to talk you out of it. Sam has come to me, you know.”

  I shook my head, utterly confused. Was she talking about the deceased grandfather of my fellow ghostbuster and current boyfriend, Heath? “You mean, Sam Whitefeather?”

  My mother nodded. “He’s tellin’ me he’s your new spirit guide.”

  I smiled. Sam had made himself noticeable to me shortly after I’d met his grandson and since then he’d worked hard to keep me from getting too beat up on our ghost hunts.

  “He needs your help,” my mother continued. “He wants my blessin’ before he asks you to help his people. I’ve seen how Sam’s been lookin’ out for you, and how he’s even saved your life a time or two. For that I’m truly grateful, but I just don’t know that I can give my blessin’ on this.”

  “Mamma,” I said, trying to sort through this cryptic bundle of information and decipher why my mother looked so uncharacteristically worried. “I don’t understand. Are you telling me Sam won’t be coming with us to Dunkirk or something?”

  My mother didn’t answer me. Instead she stroked my hair, stared deep into my eyes, as if she was considering telling me more, and then abruptly looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and saw that Sam Whitefeather was now standing in the doorway. He seemed to be waiting for something like an invitation or permission to enter the room.

  “May I, Maddie?” he asked, bowing formally to my mother.

  Without answering him, my mother turned back to me and cupped my face in those familiar warm hands. “Stay safe, Mary Jane,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss me on the forehead. “And under no circumstances are you to even think about joining me for a very, very long time. You hear?”

  I nodded, still wondering what this was all about,but my mother got up then and moved away from me. “Mamma, wait!” I called after her, but she simply walked over to Sam, placed a gentle hand on his arm and said, “Protect her as much as possible or you’ll have me to answer to, Samuel Whitefeather.”

  And then she was gone.

  It was another moment before I could tear my eyes away from the place where she’d been standing to look directly into Sam Whitefeather’s grim-looking face. “What’s this all about?” I managed to ask.

  Sam studied me for several moments, as if he were privately weighing whether to fill me in. “My grandson is about to receive a call. His uncle has been murdered.”

  I gasped. “Oh, no!”

  Sam’s shoulders sagged a little. “I didn’t know until it was too late, M. J. Whoever released the demon used dark magic to obscure it from us, and by then, my son was dead.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, Sam! I’m so, so sorry!” Vaguely I remembered Heath talking at length about his three uncles, and I wondered which one of them had been murdered. I knew his favorite uncle was Saul, who’d been like a second father to Heath, and I held my breath, hoping that it wasn’t him.

  “He’s stuck,” Sam said sadly, referring to the murdered man. “I’ve tried with our ancestors to reach out to him, but he’s been through a terrible trauma, and he’s trapped now by his own fear.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that Heath and I would certainly do what we could to help the poor man’s soul cross over, but Sam held up his hand. “I know you’re going to volunteer to do what you can,” he said to me, “but I want you to know what you’re getting into by volunteering.”

  “What am I getting into, Sam?”

  My spirit guide sighed, as if the weight of the world now rested on his shoulders. “There is a terrible evil afoot amongst my people. It will kill again. And it will keep killing until every last descendant from my tribe is wiped from your world.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.”

  “How do we stop it?”

  “You must find the one that controls it, and you must kill them.”

  I sucked in a breath. What had he just asked me to do? “You’re joking!” And when Sam’s serious expression did not falter, I inched away from him. “Sam!” I said. “I can’t kill someone! That’s murder!”

  “No, M. J., in this case it’s definitely not murder. This demon can be summoned only by pure evil, an evil that has taken control of a willing soul. Sending the person to jail will not stop the killings, and if you don’t do as I say, then the demon will rise again, and again until it kills all my children and grandchildren.”

  I was shaking my head vehemently. I wouldn’t do it. Hell, I couldn’t do it.

  “And,” Sam added, “once it has killed all of my family it will come after you.”

  “Me?!” I shouted. “Why me?!”

  “Because I am your spirit guide, and like it or not, M. J., you are now a member of my tribe.”

  Sam seemed to gather himself then, and he began to move over to the doorway. “You must tell my grandson what I have told you,” he said over his shoulder. “He’s about to have a terrible morning. Heath was very close to his uncle. He won’t be much help to you as you work to change your plans, but he must participate in bringing down the demon and the person responsible.”

  My mouth fell open. Sam was assuming a lot right now, but my mind was so muddled with the visit from my mother and the shocking statements from Sam that I was having a hard time coming up with a reply.

  Sam paused then in the doorway and turned back to me. “The others may choose not to come along,” he said. “But Gilley must accompany you. Your mother was right all those years ago when she left you in his care. He will do what is necessary to help keep you safe. And so will I.”

  With that, Sam disappeared, and I woke up to a ringing telephone. I climbed out of my slumber with the dream still very much in my thoughts as I heard Heath’s hand drop heavily on the phone and a moment later his throaty voice said, “Yeah?”

  My eyes flew open and
my heart began to hammer hard in my chest. Heath was lying on his side with his back to me. I sat up and leaned over to peer at him over his shoulder. “Heath!” I whispered urgently, knowing what he was about to learn.

  Heath’s eyes were closed; he was clearly still half asleep. “Yes, this is Heath Whitefeather. Yes, Saul Whitefeather is my uncle. Who is this, and what’s this about exactly?”

  I squeezed his arm. “Honey, give me the phone!” I didn’t want him to hear the terrible news from some stranger. I wanted him to hear it from me via his grandfather.

  But it was too late. In the next moment I heard Heath suck in a breath and he sat up so fast that I was tossed to the side. “No!” he gasped into the phone. “NO! That’s not possible! You’re wrong! It’s a mistake!”

  I watched with a pain in my heart as the caller repeated the information and Heath’s handsome face seemed to crumple in on itself. His grief was quick and total.

  I eased the phone out of his hand and spoke to the caller, who happened to be the sheriff first on the scene. I jotted down the sheriff’s information and said we’d call back soon. After hanging up the phone, I just hugged Heath for a very long time. I know about losing a loved one better than most people my age, and I also know what a hug from someone you care about can do to ease the terrible grief.

  Later, while Heath packed, I went in search of Gilley, our producer, and the rest of the crew, already bracing myself for the argument to follow. They wouldn’t be happy that we’d have to put Dunkirk on hold, but I’d make sure they knew they had little choice in the matter. I was going with Heath to New Mexico to attend his uncle’s funeral and figure out who or what had killed him. And if the other members of my special team wanted to tag along while we kicked some demon butt, all the better.

  The Ghost Hunter Mystery Series

  What’s a Ghoul to Do?

  Demons Are a Ghoul’s Best Friend